Monday, September 28, 2015

Immersion

Visarjan, let go says Ganesh, 
Limited not to an idol, says son of Mahesh. 
Unconditional love involves the mind and soul,
Obsession with matter is like a missed goal.

Yet we persist in building more idols, more temples,
In these we seek solace, as forget vedic principles,  
In your heart exists God, there is no need for symbol,
Taught Valmiki and Hanuman, but we build edifices still. 

We worship form not spirit, 
We aspire for wealth not merit, 
We grab if we don't receive, 
We pretend to give, but a bargain we conceive. 

Let go your cherished possessions, 
But we of even these display grand processions.
Let go, immerse, let go petty desires, 
But more show, more noise is all we aim for, we liars. 

- Written on 27 September 2015.
- Ananth Chaturdashi. More show, more glam, more noise, more pollution, and more plans for more grandeur, more waste for more years. I wonder where God is, how He figures in this mess. :(


Saturday, September 26, 2015

Go go Dodo, go, no, though, go.

Purposeful purposelessness, 
Awaiting nothingness,
Mysterious, absurd, illuminating,
Mankind's existence without meaning. 

Waiting for Godot,
Go though, though go go,
Go. No. Though. Go. Though.
Dodo, go Dodo, no go go go
Dodo dodo. Godot. Go Dodo.
Godot. Godot. Go no go. Dodo.
Dodo go go. Godot. 

Gibberish? Indeed. 
But pay heed. 
In this is hidden essense of humanity, 
We await patiently for some unknown release.
Nirvana? Perhaps. Or an illusion maybe? 
We wait, we question aimlessly, we talk pointlessly, we exist unthinkingly. 

Useless? Weird? 
Ceaseless? Relentless? Absurd? 
Out of thin air we create conversations,
We argue, exuberantly, for fleeting passions. 
We know not our own contradictions,
This is Waiting for Godot's seemingly senseless sense.

- Written on 26 September 2015
- In response to a student's question on the meaning in Waiting for Godot. 

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Hail Woman's Self Sufficiency

A son, a mother's aspiration,
Born of her perspiration. 
A protector, defender, 
Killed by a man: her partner. 

A wife's tears, her anguish,
Fuels a man's desperate wish,
To but find a way to amend,
His fatal blow to a child obedient. 

A search high and low
Yields again his wife's glow.
A wise elephant's head: well chosen
Life to Death, Death to Life: a cycle's completion. 

A loving father now to his wife's first born,
Giving way to a (supposed) new dawn,
A woman's creation: the first among equals,
Another matriarchal product crowns the 'Unparalleled'. 

Loved, cherished, his history dismissed,
Adored, revered, the woman's role diminished, 
Son of Shiva, indeed! Maha Ganapati!
But remember: born only to, for, by and of Parvati. 

- Written on 17 Sep 2015. 
- Ganesh Chathurthi today. Isn't it wonderful that we legitimise Ganesh, and also Yudhishtir, Bhim, Arjun, et al, but do not accept a contemporary woman's solo choices - be they children or careers or whatever?
- Isn't it even more paradoxical that we have to take bath to worship a God created entirely of a woman's sweat and grime? 

Saturday, September 05, 2015

Happy Teacher's Day

Great teachers guide, they help us thrive,
Great ones make us for knowledge strive,
They ignite in us a curiosity,
That ever makes us improve our ability.

Life long lessons they impart,
That stay with us, comfort us, aid us long after we part.
No wonder more than Gods, even parents, them we revere,
Truly they are in service without a peer.

Thank you for being a great teacher and for enriching my  life.

Happy Teacher's Day to all the teachers out there. The great ones and the ones striving to be great :)

- Written on 05 September 2015.
- Self-explanatory.

Thursday, September 03, 2015

Emulate Ganesha, Not Merely Decorate

Graceful, decorated, seeming lonely,
Worthless, since these are for now empty.
But soon they too will be cherished,
When Gods in them are seated and worshipped.

Ah! The madness of this society,
Revere a deity known for simplicity,
And waste in abundance, with a kind of greed,
Even as we pretend to follow His creed.

We, His 'bhakts' destroy nature,
As more and more idols we for 10 days treasure,
Then pollute precious water,
That our sins be washed away hereafter.

No idol He worshipped, 'quick-fix solution' mark His every deed,
Yet with elaborate rituals He is ferried,
Ganesh Chathurthi arrives soon,
I wonder how He allows this doom.

Do I believe in God? - sometimes I wonder.
If this mayhem Gods allow, then what their power?
Maybe we should just look within,
And to follow Ganesha's principles now begin.

Not an idol, but His theology,
Not frenzy, but His rationality,
Not grandeur, but His chasteness,
Not loud insistence, but His quiet persistence...

If we can but try to emulate,
His principles, rather than the ornate,
Perhaps it would be a true tribute,
To the One, we all salute.

- Written on 02 September 2015
- I am already tired of seeing the decorations and the set ups. Can Ganesh Chathurthi be over already, please?

Saturday, July 04, 2015

Our Strengths

Dreams, surreal, technicolor. 
Fears that rob even pallor. 
Hope that better things await the next bend.
Desperation that this might well be the end. 
Each day we panic ourselves into anxiety.
Each day we learn anew our strengths - our friends - our reality.

- Written on 04 July 2015
- just

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Comments on The Indian Education System

[00:18, 31/05/2015] Anusha Ramanathan: Ok these are mine: 

Indian Education System: 
Where students learn how NOT to be prepared for the real world. 

Where teachers are taught the new Cs by their students:  Carelessness, Cheating, and Corruption. 

Where technology is used to instil rote learning and innovation involves invoking old systems.

Where students and teachers collude to pretend learning occurs even as they collide with the real world. 

Where people carp about crap. 

Where Modern Indian History still stops with Gandhi's death and the succeeding 60+ years never occurred. 

Where Science still follows the Chatur pattern and the Ranchos have to set up alternative schools that may never be formally recognised.

[00:37, 31/05/2015] Anusha Ramanathan: Indian Education System: 

The new money making machine.
The wake we should be having, but do not perceive.  
Donations are used to buy seats.
Caste to reserve these. 
Influence to intimidate
But we do not ruminate. 
The ruin of education, 
Pointless aspiration, 
No sight of resolution, 
But all hail Indian education.

[00:48, 31/05/2015] Anusha Ramanathan: Indian Labour System - 

In India an average worker is expected to put in 40 hours of work a week. 

A child in the Indian Education system typically spends about 35 hours in school per week. Then has tuitions amounting to an equivalent number of hours. Then has to do some extra curricular activities and maybe train for those too. And complete the Homework assigned by each teacher of the above regimes (school, tuitions, extra curricular classes). 

The counting is left to you. But I think the ILO should be looking into this exploitation, don't you?


[00:57, 31/05/2015] Anusha Ramanathan: India's Population Control Programme: 

We have one of the highest, if not the highest, suicide rate in the world for suicides in the 15-19 age group. 

Common cause family problems. Dig deeper. Cause performance pressure. Dig even deeper and find a poor education system that ill-equips students with either skill or strategy or strength to cope with life. 

Well, anyway we have too many people on this piece of land anyway! 

- Written on 31 May 2015
- A niece asked me for some jokes on the Indian Education System and the rest followed :) Blame her, do. 

Tuesday, April 07, 2015

Family or Travesty?

Built on her sacrifice - a family?
Or merely a pathetic travesty?
One person the lynch pin?
And this is a reason for celebration?

If on just one pillar stands an edifice
Should we not fear this foolishness?
This phenomenon is actually a calamity
This is the societal equivalent of Mount Fuji.

No, a mother, just her, can't be the bearer
Of love, togetherness, family and culture.
It is not a lesson to teach humanity
That one can and should live off a mother's bounty.

NO more sacrifice. No more martyrdom.
No more false smiles. No more tears hidden.
No more diplomacy, when she wants to break free.
No more working through pain, when she wants to sleep.

No more someone I feel sorry for. No more pity.
NO more someone I admire, but want NOT to be.
No more the worn out, tired, LOVING entity.
No more the one without her sense of PERSONAL  identity.

No more the doer, deferring to a 'higher' authority.
No more a professional compromising for the family.
No more just a woman waiting to be a wife, a mother.
No more just a girl, growing up to please the other.

NO. NO. NO. NO.
NO. NO. NO. NO.
No more. No more.
No more. No more.

- Written on 7 April 2015 

- I just could NOT stop at the earlier one. :) I don't know if I am shivering with ragr or fever, but this sort of wrote itself out too. :) 

Mother

I wish a mother taught us right
To NOT sacrifice, but fight
To help others, yes,
But not be selfless.

To keep the peace
To NOT carve herself piece by piece
Guilt she inspires in women
False expectations in her family, her son

I wish she had not.
I wish she had fought.

I wish she had not people managed
When fathers stupidly ranted and raged,
Each time she ate what was left over,
Each time she pleased the other.

Is this the legacy that she wants us to emulate
This constant need to self-deprecate?
I want to scream, NO LONGER PLEASE.
You have a right to just be.

You have a headache, for God’s sake retire
You don’t want to cook, let others light the fire,
You are NOT the clean-up crew, others are there too,
Instead of jumping high, raise the bar for the family, do.

You DO NOT, SHOULD NOT come last,
I do NOT want to be in your this dye cast.

And those who blindly take and take,
Fathers, parents, children, Grow up for Pity’s sake!


-          - Written on 6 April 2015

-          - In response to the UMPTEENTH Stupid forward on the Greatness of the All-Sacrificing Mother. She is someone I NEVER WANT TO BE and actually do not even respect as much.

-          If the stupid father ranted, she should have brought him down instead of massaging his ego and keeping quiet, if the kid wanted extra classes, why did ONLY the mother have to sacrifice to get him/her the same, why was the food she ate AFTER everyone had eaten MORE than their fill, instead of ensuring that ALL sacrificed? Are these the lessons she should teach, one pays the price that ALL may prosper? I would so rather not have that selfish prosperity built on one person’s exploitation. And this systemic victimisation  is revered, not reviled!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUCK!!!!!!!!!!!! 
-      
       -   You know what, my mother DID NOT COOK when she did not feel like it. She did NOT cajole us, anyone of us, when we were being unreasonable, she did not let us win just because, she did not let us eat that extra dosa when there was a limited supply, she let us make mistakes AND PAY for them, and HER I respect. I would far rather have a friend, a human, a mother in my life than some Martyr!!!!!!!!!!!


-


Wednesday, April 01, 2015

Ill Again

Huddled under covers
Wrapped in layers
Wracked with high fevers
And with sneezes and coughs and tears.
Losing their crispness, these freshly washed sheets
As sweat and shivers destroy the washing machine's feats.

I would like to give up, but then see
My father, aged 73, plodding to office ceaselessly
My mother, a heart patient at 63, working tirelessly
And I resolve afresh to stop this self-pity.
So the bone-jarring coughs, the breathless sighs
Can do their worst, but I will continue the fights

Yes, it is hell, but I am getting well.
Of this travesty too, a merry tale I will tell.

-          - Written on 1 April 2015

-          - Self-Explanatory

Thursday, March 19, 2015

For All You Saree Lovers

6 metres of cloth, amazingly versatile, 
As it adapts to so many a diverse style. 

The Bengali version with its dupatta style drape, 
The Gujarati, Marwari and such versions versions that the pallu the star make. 

The quintessential Indian fashion statement, 
That the bais, to the farmers, to the  AI hostesses to the top rung executives use as their primary adornment,

The Sari, the Saree, 
The showcasing of  beauty, 
The manifold styles flexibility, 
The through the ages durability, 
The all body types adaptability, 
The all weather conditions suitability, 
The symbol of power and vulnerability, 
Sexy, shy, revealing, veiling, the blessing, (my tragedy) - The SAREE. 

For all you Saree lovers. 👆

- Written on 18 March 2015
- A random whatsapp chat with my cousins led me to rant against the saree and many of them love it, so this was an apology of sorts. 
- I still HATE it for me. :) 

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Some days, some nights

Some days, some nights
You pause, you reflect, you emit sighs,
In memory of conversations, the 1:00am kind,
The comfort that only with friends you will find. 

Some days, some nights, 
You wonder how time slipped by
When, and also why
The conversations reduced by and bye. 

Some days, some nights,
Reality lands you in a blindside,
Then love releases a triumphant cry,
No matter what, some bonds, however stretched, will see you through life.  

Some days, some nights, 
Make you relive anew those delights, 
And a promise elicit outright:
"I will always be there (in spirit at least) by your side".

- Written on 18 March 2015
- Somehow it is in the middle of random actions that you suddenly miss someone the most. For no reason. Not that they are away, or distant. Just that they are not there right that moment by your side for a hug. Or that it is too late, too early, too inconvenient to call to say a "Hullo".
- So you whatsapp them your angst, so they can wake up to it and curse you, I guess ;) 
- Then again, it is their fault for being your 1:00am friend.  

Sunday, March 08, 2015

India's Daughter???

Well, all that the conversations and news feeds have been going on and on about is Leslee Udwin's India's Daughter.

Did I see it? Yes.

Did I like it? Yes.

Do I think it is relevant? Yes.

Do I oppose the ban? Yes.

Do I think it is flawless? No.

Some feminists want to ban the documentary thinking it would incite more rapes? Seriously? Then bring it on, I say, for then perhaps, FINALLY, humanity will revolt and put an end to this nonsense show of power.

Yes, Mukesh has been given space to present his views. So? Why should he not speak? If we cannot, do not, engage with these people then how will we know what they are thinking? Why they did what they did? It is all very well to say they are monsters, but they were born human weren't they? Furthermore, it perhaps might be easy to dismiss them as anomalies to be extinguished, if their actions were not merely the tip of a humongous iceberg of women's oppression.

In fact, it is not merely women's oppression. Imagine men who feel they have the responsibility to be the guardians of a society's mores and must enforce said morality through hook or crook. Imagine a boy belonging to a household so poor that they starve for days that he ran away to make his living in a place, any place. Imagine men who think that women have one role to play and men another. If a man, thus, is unable to protect (read control, if need be) his family, or defend its honour, then he kills and commits suicide. In fact, one of the rapists in this case allegedly did just that. We do not know why. Imagine the growth of society with a large population burdened with such belief systems. Why imagine? See. See India.

Then there is the other side of the coin - the understanding friend. The guy who makes Jyoti Singh sound even more saint like than her parents made her out to be. That is some achievement!

I mean, really!!!

Her friend wanted to watch an action film and she wanted to watch Life of Pi and that is presented as if it were the Holy Grail she had chosen. Right because if she had agreed to see a film such as Love, Sex, Dhoka (LSD) she would have been less deserving of the basic safety standards, is it?

She once got a juvenile pickpocket thief new jeans, and food and asked him to never steal again. I commend her efforts, her intentions, but please do not tell me that her stop gap solution was a solution at all. That was just as worthless as the Bar Council slapping a show cause notice on the defence lawyers NOW. Where was any such agitation invoked when one of the idiots, on television, mind you, stated he would take his womenfolk to his farmhouse and set them ablaze with petrol if they dared eschew "morality"!

She worked in a call center to fund her studies. Again commendable. Especially, when you contrast her efforts with those of her rapists who whiled away their time drinking and partying.

She wanted to open a hospital in her village. Super. I am not deriding her ambition, or her social activism, but the effort to make her seem to be the equivalent of Mother Teresa or some such august personality gets my goat.

The friend makes Jyoti Singh sound holier than thou and makes a case for "good women" vs "bad women" almost as much as the lawyers in the film. In fact, even more dangerously, insidiously.

In fact, the film, and I refuse to call it a documentary for the overly dramatic script writing done, makes such a strong argument of the sheer "goodness" of the girl that it seems to be catering to the rapists' ideology that says "good girls" do not fight, go out late in the night, party, etc. 

I do not care if she were studying to be fashion designer and wanted to make pots of money. She deserved to be safe and be allowed to follow her dreams. The way that the film made her out to be saint irritates me because it then seems to espouse the same ideology it supposedly fights against. 

The constant repetition that it was ONLY 8:00 pm. That is "not late" (read 'not bad'). WTF. I come home at 1:00 am sometimes. So? And it matters, does it, if I were coming home from a 'party' or my workplace? 

Sheer bloody nonsense. That kind of mentality gets me almost more riled than the rape. 

We need safety. PERIOD. 

I really like the film. I think it raises important issues. I think it has been well researched to a large extent. It has tried to explore multiple perspectives, which is more than can be said of those imposing the ban on this film.

I liked the sheer pathos that wife of one of the rapists invokes saying her plight is pitiable and that there are worse criminals and that she would die and perhaps need to kill her infant son without male support of her husband, whom she contends (a) did not rape and (b) there are multitudes out there with worse crimes than what her husband is accused of. Also true.

The psychiatrist who matter-of-factly states the chilling fact that there are men in jail convicted for a dozen or so rapes, when they themselves claim that the rapees number at least 200 that they can remember.

I like that Udwin focused on Mukesh's hands to show his discomfort. I also wonder at the people who want the rapists to show remorse. Why? Would you forgive them then? Would you ask for a repeal of the death sentence? By the way, how does one show remorse? In the eyes? What if he were conscious of the camera, of being spoken to, of having company, female company, after being put in prison? These are men who were asked to pose for a front, left and right profile reminding them of their criminal status. I for one am GLAD he did not show remorse. The way people are at it, it almost seems they would forgive him for having learnt his lesson! He should in 02 years learn that what he had observed, learnt for his entire life was wrong? Have we learnt our lesson to NOT expect change overnight? To NOT be self-congratulatory about how much better we are? To NOT discontinue the agitation for better, more sensitive, more nuanced understanding of the problem? To NOT shy away from even more troubling facts such as marital rape? 

Yes, the film is NOT unbiased. I do think Leslee Udwin has over dramatised an already dramatic narrative. The documentary maker is in love with the protagonist. Which is her right. And which is fine. But I want more narratives unfolding from this one. Many more narratives. 

The easy way out provided by most activists on the show is 'education'. Puhleez!! Let's look at our education system steeped in patriarchal mores. The 'educated' friend emphasising the "goodness" of Jyoti, the lawyers (they hold valid certifications to practice law, don't they) making statements about woman equating her to a 'flower' or a 'diamond' or thinking one has the right to set her ablaze, the social activists, some of them feminists, so many government officials, many of whom are educated (at least they have a degree) tell me that mere education is NOT enough. 

Let's engage in debates. Let's probe. Let's confront reality. Let's allow space for alternative views, however, uncomfortable they make us, however much they differ from ours, however radical they may seem. For if we do not, we are no better than those behind the attacks at Charlie Hebdo's offices. 

I think we are mistaking listening for accepting. It is NOT. It is a step towards reflecting, analysing, engaging, acting or not acting, changing or not changing, but always improving. 

Here's to an India when Transgenders, Women, Men, All are treated at par. 
May we find reasons galore to celebrate HUMANITY each day of each year. 

- Written on 8 March 2015
- Self-Explanatory

First written in comments section in https://kafila.online/2015/03/08/indian-feminists-indias-daughter-and-sexual-violence-the-issues-at-stake/

Happy Women's Day

"Women should stay at home and stay protected." 

Not that that would make a woman safe from abuse, be that of a father or mother or brother or sister or husband or father-in-law or mother-in-law or the various other relatives and friends, but she would stay safe from strangers, well maybe not the courier delivery person or the milkman, or the vegetable vendor, or the sundry salespersons, but she would be safe. Yes, indeed safe. 

"Women should not deck up and go out. It is an open invitation to rape, molestation, abuse and degradation."

Not that fully decked women, women in the 'ultimate Indian attire', the Sari, are never molested, but at least she would have society's sympathy and outrage and who knows maybe the abusers would be reminded of other women they like and spare these women, whom they probably abuse or have mutely witnessed being abused anyway, but "decently clad" women needing to venture out would be safe. 
Yes, indeed.

"Women should go out alone. Women should be accompanied by men who are relatives when going out."

Of course, because random strangers will immediately recognize that you are related and will not pull you up and ask you bizarre questions as to who you are and where you are going and why you are out at all. Women will be then safe. 
Yes, quite. I do see your point. 

"One cannot expect the police to keep you safe. They are so overburdened. Just do not tempt. Do not question. Do not flash. Do not advertise. Do not hide. Do not be quiet. Do not be loud. Do not laugh. Do not reject. Do not agree. It is your responsibility to keep yourself safe and your family 'honour' intact."

Yes. That is why when houses get new paint and get robbed, the owners deserve it. That is why when one buys jewellery, perhaps diamonds, and the house is broken into, one is told that one 'invited' the crime and the criminals, sorry the 'dogs'. That is why when flashy cars are stolen, the owner is chided for the thirst to show off and not  be satisfied with a 'safer' option. That is why someone late at night is knifed outside the ATM, the government should ban ATMs and such, the cause of all such crime. 
Yes, indeed. I agree wholeheartedly. 

Happy Women's Day all! 
I hope for a day when we can celebrate ALL genders equally and every day. 

- Written on 8 March 2015
- I am still reeling with India's Daughter, reactions to the same, counter reactions to the same and on and on it goes.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Remains

In between pages of a diary peeps a half capped pen, 
As if the writer had left in a hurry, it forgotten.

Thoughts it recorded of a mind senseless
Words it spewed as venom most poisonous. 

Harsh, condemning those left behind, 
For not doing more to help, to be kind.

24 years of love, of bonding, of joy, all erased
Because that 1 person was the one who strayed? 

Parents, family, friends all who you encouraged, 
All you heard were taunts, where none were, as you raged.

Love comes in all forms, and joy is around sorrow's roundabout,
You knew this, said this often, but under duress you forgot.

But when unhappy, one is wont to say
"It is my way or the highway".

But not this one way street, not this pain,
Not this end, not just this memory of you to remain.


27 Feb 2015
- Self-Explanatory.



No Chance for Redemption

Received news today 
A student has death embraced

From the 7th floor house, a supposed cucoon,
High on alcohol he fell down to ever doom 

His parents to question themselves, to wonder
"What could I have done to stop this blunder?" 

Do people who let go ever pause to think
How many more they drag with them to the brink? 

The mother lamenting she had done not more
The father staring, unable to bring his sorrow to the fore.

Listening to the mother bewildered, in pain,
Thinking of 24 years of love come to pass in vain. 

Sharing her grief, shuddering as she weeps, 
But filled with rage, for the loss for keeps.

A girlfriend ditched you, a promotion passed you by, 
I sympathised then, but NOW, I am antagonised.

Yes, bad things happen, so work through them, 
Or reach out. Friends, even strangers, would not abandon. 

Everyone makes mistakes, we may have too, 
But no chance of redemption, why bestow this gloom? 

You who said your parents were the best, 
Have ensured they only stay atop grief's crest. 

Sorry, I am too angry to cry. 
Why? Why? Did you commit suicide? 


- 27 Feb 2015
- Self-Explanatory.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

ADOPTED

It has been a bad day today in some ways. 
I got into an argument yet again. 
But this one hurt me deeply, 
Someone said an adoptee has no family.

A student I know is one such
Who has been denied so much
His parents love him a lot, he says
But their families even now walk away. 

A loving touch, a gentle word, a joyous smile, 
Is it so hard to be be kind to a child? 
Genes are touted so much by people,
But really the difference is so miniscule. 

Did you know for instance that human DNA differs by 0.1% or less
From another human, origin regardless? 
That mtDNA inherited from the mother is the same composition
For all that belong to a wide continent region? 

Yet we distinguish, we need to know
The origin of child to place him high or low
In our rankings of love and respect
Based on prejudice, and some fear, I suspect. 

Do we not have in each of our familes,
Some killer, some thief, some secret we would like to keep? 
Yet what we protest is a member of another creed or community
And worse a person, an infant, with no known identity! 

Does it make sense when we know less of death and life hereafter
To embrace it so, but to shun a child because it knows not its gene provider?
I grew up on stories of the rearing of Krishna and Moghli, 
And I would rather be with a wolf than such specimens of 'humanity'. 

- Written on 23 Feb 2015
- Self-explanatory. Plus a similar argument with someone else on the possibility of TOTAL acceptance of adoptees by ALL. 
- The conversation took place after I showed a documentary in class 'The Human Spark: Episode 02'. The kid wanted to ahow this to his "family", more so his parents would not be reviled any more than for himself. I think he is more evolved than that extended FAMILY of his, but whatever. 
- Today has just been that kind of day. :( 
- I hope tomorrow brings a brighter thought being adopted. 

Friday, February 13, 2015

Happy Kiss Day

May each day be a kiss day :)

Kisses smacking of joys,
Kisses shared by the eyes,
Love filled kisses, 
Comforting kisses, 
Flying kisses, 
Gesture kisses, 
French kisses, 
Tickling kisses,
Air kisses, 
Blown kisses,
So many types, so many ways, 
So light a touch that was placed, 
So deep a connection that caress for years stays, 
So joyous a celebration
That it begs repetition,
So varied and so much emotion
In this universal form of expression.
A mother's cracked loving lips, 
A father's bearded scratchy lips
A child's drool filled lips, 
A friend's laughter spilling lips, 
A lover's romantic lips, 
And on and on goes the list. 
I wish you kisses galore
May love ever replenish its store. 

Happy Kiss Day! 💋💋💋💋

- Written on 13 Feb 2015
- Self-explanatory :) Happy Kiss Day everybody. 

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Class in the Open

The electricity plays havoc, 
My students' presentations cut short, 
Too dark in the classroom with only AC,
We proceed to the open Amphi,
An hour and more of holding forth,
With no PPT, or chalk or board,
With just games and discussions, 
And role enactments, 
A fun 2 hour session, 
Going back to class seemed torture even, 
But another 3 hours of lectures done, 
I even learnt a lesson, 
What seemed initially a mess, 
Is now what makes my day seem a success.

- Written on 24 January 2015.

Sometimes words

Sometimes the words come out
Wrong and what is intended 
Is not what is spout. 

Sometimes the words you spoke
Hurt those whom you
Love the most.

Sometimes you know the tears might stay
For some inner fears, doubts, 
They then betray. 

Sometimes these words cannot be back taken
Howmuchever you 
Wish them unheard, unspoken. 

Sometimes then all you can wish for
Is what you have always relied on
Through Life's furore.

Sometimes then the mercy of friends
Makes you feel relieved, 
Small yet big, and shaken.

Sometimes words hurt in the aftermath
The 'sayer' as much as the one
They consigned to a bloodbath. 

Sometimes words spoken 
Test bonds of love, hopefully strengthen, 
And teach a valuable lesson. 

Sometimes words make you dig deeply
For courage to apologise abjectly
For love to accept the 'I am sorry'.

Sometimes words show you
How unthinking you are in taking for granted
The love of those closest to you.

- Written on 23 January 2015. 
- I spoke without thinking what was to be a joke, the words though hurt my closest friend. 
- Made me anew realise, 
How often I speak before I analyse. 
Not an excuse that I meant not the joke,
Never a good reason to another's hurt poke. 
But I have good friends who forgive easily,
With such friends I am blessed indeed.